Tag: fiction

Describing Frightened

It’s worrying your fingers while you wait for the dentist to come back and give you Novocaine for a wisdom tooth withdrawal. It’s being the last group to perform in a series of short plays, and realizing you can’t remember your first line the second […]

Describing Sarcasm, #ROW80

It’s the biting comment you make after someone in a position of power over you says something mind-bendingly stupid, and yet those in the room fall for it. When you roll your eyes and plaster a fake smile on your face, just so you can […]

Describing Judgment, and #ROW80 Progress

It’s making fun of my mom and Sister 2 for watching the Bachelor a couple years ago, and then stopping every so often, mesmerized and yet self-loathing for allowing myself to become so captivated. It’s falling in line with the two of them, but in […]

Describing Shame, and #ROW80

It’s telling your best friend something private and secret about yourself, and then listening to her reprimand you for even having those thoughts at all. It’s the hot-cold flush you feel afterwards, like the room is too big and too small all at once. It’s […]

Describing Openness

It’s wanting to go out, until you actually get asked to do something, and then saying you’ll go anyway because didn’t you just want this? When you’re out, it’s reminding yourself why you’re there, and not at home. It’s reminding yourself that you wanted this, […]

Describing Energetic

It’s the splash of fresh-squeezed orange juice in your glass on a Saturday morning after a restful sleep, with the sun shining through newly-cleaned windows. It’s the leap and spin of a young ballet dancer breaking in their first pair of pointe shoes. It is […]

Describing Inspiration

It is the flush of heat that comes over your cheeks in the middle of the day, probably during a boring class, or an overlong meeting, or a family reunion that couldn’t go more wrong. It is the punch-drunk giggle you emit when a brilliant […]


Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino All rights reserved. The trees are people, Their branches are limbs and Their twigs and leaves, Fingers and fingernails. As the cold melts into the bones of the earth, Their twisted root-feet rise from the ground, Crashing through the chilly […]


Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino All rights reserved. The snow begins to Thaw, And soft rain Trickles Across barren tree limbs, Down To the rich, solid earth Beneath Slush piles and patches of Ice. Touch my hand in Old age, And fade into the Low […]


Copyright © 2013 C.L. Mannarino All rights reserved. An old woman sits on the northernmost bench of the park between two twisted, barren trees. She wears a long scarf around her neck and her coat falls down beyond her knees. Both match the line of […]